


But Not For Power, Oh Proserpina

by WhereTheMoonShinesBright



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Hurt/mild comfort, Introspection, M/M, Mentioned Canonical Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22398586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereTheMoonShinesBright/pseuds/WhereTheMoonShinesBright
Summary: "Felix would not die for anyone. He would not do anything but fight, improve, and fight harder. If Felix died for Dimitri he could not be alive to protect anyone else. Felix would not die for Dimitri, he would protect Dimitri. And if Felix failed and died then he had done just that, he had failed.Felix had learned at a early age that a broken shield had no use, and could easily be replaced for one that was stronger."
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	But Not For Power, Oh Proserpina

It’s not that Felix doesn’t notice it. Really he does. 

He hasn’t forgiven Dimitri. He’s not sure he will ever forgive Dimitri for the things he’s done, for the person he allowed himself to become. But he’s found, maybe strangely, he can live with them. 

_As if they were his mistakes to bare anyways._

Yet Felix follows Dimitri around, like a stray cat that’s finally beguiled someone into feeding it. At first he says it’s to “put the Boar back down” if it turns out Dimitri’s just a better liar than he used to be and has tricked both him and Dedue into seeming less… _sick._ After months that end a war, and regularly shared meals, and insistence on sparring and working together, Felix can’t name the reason behind his own actions. 

It’s shortly after the fall of Enbarr, amongst the death rites and relief efforts, amongst the conquering party making their way out of a city where they are ultimately unwelcome, that Dimitri first talks to him of the future.

Or more precisely, he speaks to Felix of the past. 

“I don’t know why you’re so set on denying you were a bit of a cry baby when you were younger,” Dimitri states after another bad reaction to someone’s childhood story. Everyone else had retired. Felix and Dimitri had taken first watch, despite Felix’s insistence that he and Dimitri should be on separate watches. The Professor shrugged, noting that everyone else was assigned and asleep. “It’s more endearing. In many ways, you’re almost the same.”  
  
It’s a joke. Goddess above, Felix _knows_ Dimitri is trying to lighten the mood. Felix knows he’s still sulking. It does nothing for his temper. “I haven’t cried in years.” 

“That can’t be true,” but surely Dimitri knows that it is.

Felix does nothing more than stare at the woods just past Dimitri’s head “I don’t see any point in talking about all of that anyways.” 

The fire crackles and the leaves shift, and everything is as it should be when they lapse into silence. 

“I understand how you feel about the past, truly.” And Felix regrets his belief that Dimitri would let up for once, “But I don’t see any point in letting go of the better things either. We are all still friends after all.”

Aside from Glenn, who is dead. And also given that Dimitri has only… slowly been working back towards a friendship with Sylvain. That goes unsaid. Felix already gets accused too often of claiming to have known the mind of his own brother better than their shared friends. Dimitri wouldn’t argue that point, in any case, but Felix feels… tired suddenly. 

The past wore at the mortar between them as often as it replaced it. 

“You need to stop thinking of me, Ingrid and Sylvain as how we were when we were younger. The world changed us all. You died and made us bury you and dig you back up again.”

“I..” Dimitri’s stopped apologizing after the 30th condemnation Felix made of words over action. He still trips over it sometimes. Just like this. “I wanted to talk about the future anyways.”  
  
Felix kicks a small clump of dirt to kill the flame of some dying ember. “Fine, if you insist on blabbering, let’s hear it.”

“The King of Faerghus has almost always had a royal advisor.”

Felix already disliked the direction of this. “You’re not going to be the King of _Faerghus_ anymore, anyways.”

“True,” Dimitri does not quite pause. “I still wanted to extend the offer to you, first. I think it’s what Rodrigue had wanted, even when we were younger.” _Even before Glenn died_ , Felix hears underneath those words. Felix knows, even with his brother heir apparent, this was probably true. “We were always around each other when we were younger, whether or not it was arguably by your insistence. It’s occurred to me that for that time I barely have any memories without you. It couldn’t have been an accident”

“For the last time, I don’t care what the old man wanted. It doesn’t matter now anyways. I hadn’t even considered I might be asked to be Duke Fraldarius until a few months ago.” Felix’s father has been dead for only months and it feels like he’s been dead for years. 

“I concede. The position of advisor has always been owed to the Fraldarius family. In truth, even aside from that, you’re the only one I can think to ask.” Dimitri’s face goes vacant for a moment. “I will… consider what my other options are.

Felix heaves a sigh. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” Felix’s words are always bitten off with Dimitri, even now. “Just remember, I didn’t say I would do it either.”

——

There’s the truth he could never explain. The song he could sing, and have everyone repeat back with the wrong words:

Felix would die for Dimitri. He would die for the boar, too. He would wield himself to protect the people, he would have done the same for his father had he been given the chance. Life without battle was pointless. Boring. Life without death was purposeless. 

Dying in battle was not honorable or glorious. Killing was not honorable or glorious. If you were strong, you could keep yourself and others alive. If you were weak, you died and others died because you weren’t good enough or fast enough or strong enough to save them. 

Felix would die for Dimitri. No… maybe Felix missed the right words sometimes too. Sylvain and Ingrid had been willing to die for Dimitri. They did not care, really, about whether they lived or died, especially if another could live in their stead. Felix would not die for anyone. He would not do anything but fight, improve, and fight harder. If Felix died _for_ Dimitri he could not be alive to protect anyone else. Felix would not die for Dimitri, he would _protect_ Dimitri. And if Felix failed and died then he had done just that, he had _failed_. 

Felix had learned at a early age that a broken shield had no use, and could easily be replaced for one that was stronger.

——

The world quickly settles into formalities when the war is over. Felix has to send a request to receive an audience with Dimitri, and flames if Felix hasn’t been trying to ignore the memories of when he wasn’t allowed to travel with his father to Fhirdiad. It’s different now in that Felix receives a small entourage to take him to Dimitri, who has been staying in one of the offices adjacent to the Cardinal’s hall for the past week. The knights quickly disperse once Dimitri sends them away. 

With a nod, Dimitri dismisses Dedue as well.

The balcony of the room is open, letting in the late fall air and Dimitri waves Felix towards it to talk. It's not so odd. It's fairly standard, even. He and Dimitri were taught the same things: The wind carries away words and a balcony is the closest thing to privacy they’re going to get for now. 

“Were my causes for meeting sufficient enough, your majesty?” Felix’s voice isn’t flecked with malice as it should be. It’s half-amused even.

Dimitri winces, genuinely apologetic. “I had hoped to avoid the formalities while we were still at the monastery. As expected, a few groups have already found reason to decry an official unification of Fodlan.”

“They’re expecting another assassination attempt?” Dimitri understands that Felix has read between the lines. “And you didn’t think to tell anyone?”  
  
“Dedue and Gilbert know. The Professor and Seteth as well.” 

Felix curses under his breath. “If the war isn’t over yet, we need to know how _unsettled_ we all should be.” 

“It’s already under control, Felix.” Dimitri soothes. Dimitri’s ‘calm down’ tone hasn’t consoled him, ever. 

“Then there’s no reason to hide it.”

Felix has Dimitri’s postures and faces recognized. He has since he was a reverent child. The one Dimitri is wearing now, mouth turned down, eyes hard, face soft means he isn’t angry, but Felix is being difficult and he’s trying to figure out how to be concise.

Felix doesn’t need an excuse. He just needs change. “Next time you’ll tell one of us whether we should be watching the shadows. We’re as good as useless without warning.”

Dimitri sighs into acceptance. 

“Anyways, I’ve thought about your proposal.”

Dimitri doesn’t look optimistic. His shoulders drop and his lips go tight. “Ah, I’m guessing you’ve decided then.”

“I accept your offer.” Felix leans on the balcony, angled towards Dimitri. “It’s my right to stand by your side. It’s my right to strike you down.” _It always has been._

Dimitri looks stunned at his threat for all of five seconds. And it is infuriating that Dimitri can look both solemn and amused, emotion still trapped behind the thin veil that Felix remembers from the days of blood-glutted boar. Felix wants to tear it down.

And then it falls anyways. And what it reveals is Dimitri laughing, small and to himself, its not sonorous or mean, and Dimitri’s shoulders gently tremble as he suppresses the noise and breathes it out his nose. 

“You’re a fool,” and Felix grimaces, he meant for it to sound like a reprimand, but it doesn’t. He regrets that he’d allowed himself to become so un-rightly disarmed. “I’m the worst person for this job.” 

“You’re the only person I’ve never been able to lie to. You’re the only person I trust to keep me honest.”  
  
Felix scoffs, “You never listened to my advice before.”

“I thought I could do everything on my own before. I had Dedue of course but even he… Everyone else had a future they wished for me. I had not planned…” When Dimitri’s thoughts stutter his entire body falls with it. He looks to reach for his own hand, and then the muscles signal lunge down, to reach for Felix’s hand. He does neither, and regains his former posture. “I understand I must do better now. For you, and for everyone else.”

“And if you don’t.”

“I will do something else and try again.”

Felix is satisfied with this answer, despite the fact that it’s barely an answer at all. He knows conviction. 

He hears it. 

Dimitri is closer than he realized, actually, their shoulders just inches away from where they lean against the balcony. Felix is quick to notice and prick away, trying for all the world to seem like he just wanted to stand up. Being held is too close of a memory to crying. He wants it. It makes his skin crawl.

Dimitri follows him to stand, though, and that shrinks the space between them.“You’re satisfied with that answer?” Dimitri has apparently taken Felix’s retraction as resignment.

“Yes.” Felix snarls. He fluctuates easily between discomfort and annoyance. “I already told you. Whether I am to stand by you or strike you down—“

“That right is yours.” Dimitri finishes melting forward.

Dimitri’s movements are not subtle. Nothing about him is. He sees every nerve twitch before it moves, as though every friend were an opponent— This world has built nothing sacred, he always knew they friends and enemies were interchangeable— And he is prepared for Dimitri to lean in more. Hesitant, Felix can feel Dimitri’s hand at the back of his head, as though deliberating whether or not to embrace him. 

Dimitri can’t read Felix, but he’s learning. ‘That right is mine’ may as well be a lovelorn confession. Who’s to say it isn’t? He feels so close to not-lonely, so similar to being understood. He can barely take it. He can’t stand the chance of Dimitri meeting his eyes and sews them shut.

Felix’s hand cups Dimitri’s face and the other misses skin and slides into the tangle of Dimitri’s hair. Dimitri does not embrace him, but uses his hands to lock Felix’s hands to his face, not gripping just pressing. And they meet there between them, or more Dimitri recognizes the invitation, and accepts it with gentle pressure that soon finds the courage and earnestness needed to become what is properly a kiss. Even behind shuttered vision, Felix is surprised to find he envisions Dimitri as he is now, pulled apart and hastily soldered back together, the only version worthy of his acknowledgement. 

The kiss is soft, and unexciting, and present. And Felix has never wanted anything else. 

When Dimitri retracts Felix still won’t open his eyes. He feels hollow and desperate, even as Dimitri keeps Felix’s hands planted on his face. It makes the desperation worse, the shame of knowing his eyes won’t hide it, and having to argue which is the worst of two vulnerabilities.

Dimitri’s face is still close enough for shallow breath to hover Felix’s mouth. He’s about to pull away, honing himself into a sharp edge, when “Felix, I…”

And Felix knows the next words are going to be ‘I love you’ or ‘I’m sorry’ and he won’t withstand the insult of either of those things. He cuts Dimitri off with a gloved hand over the mouth, held at an awkward angle because Dimitri’s palm is still cupped over the back of his hand. 

“I’m going to Fhirdiad with you. I’ll swear fealty and be recognized as Duke Fraldarius. I’ll be in Fhirdiad a quarter of every season until western Faerghus is rebuilt.” Felix opens his eyes in impatience, regrets it, and stares off somewhere beyond Dimitri’s shoulder. “If you need any help aside from that you’ll have to relearn how to ride a horse.”

“And then?”

“Rebuilding after the war might take our entire lives,” Felix bites. “If you want me close at hand for more than 4 months of the year, you’ll keep that beast reigned in and do your damned job.”

“Oh, Felix.” Dimitri’s voice is too fond. It betrays too much. “You say you’ll only have me if I fix the world?”

“I _already_ have you.” Suddenly the years of forced conversations and insults withstood make sense. He’s certain of it. “You need to convince me to _keep_ you.”

Dimitri is smiling. It’s easier to look at his mouth than into his eyes. He presses kisses along Felix’s brow. When Dimitri pulls away, Felix forces himself to look him in the eye. Felix has sold his soul, he knows.His threats to leave are as vacant as conquered thrones, and bodiless armor. He’s never sought vindication for fighting for Dimitri; His cause had already been damned by the first time Felix wielded a sword for him. But with Dimitri’s mouth pressing promises Felix doesn’t care about into his skin… 

Dimitri’s eye isn’t clear when it meets him. It’s the sky that burns after a snow storm, offering the cold and vacant hope of spring time— constant in its threat of inconstancy, deceiving in its framing of the sun.

Felix closes his eyes again, drawing Dimitri forward. Feels Dimitri laugh against his cheek. He can live with this. He will not cry. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had 6 shots of espresso today. They're all kicking in now. I wrote this in three hours. I swear to GOD I'll proofread it later but you have to understand what I'm working with here. (EDIT: I lied I immediately did a pre-lim grammar and spell check. I'll do a more careful scan in a few hours.)
> 
> I had my good friend Miles give me a prompt since I've been feeling a little stuck on my other fics. He wanted Dimilix, kisses, and emotional repression. This ended up being more emotional repression, less kisses.
> 
> I didn't mark this teen because I don't think there's a semi-explicit death description but if I'm just blanking let me know and I'll bump up the rating.
> 
> Oh, and as always, I'm always available to chat on twitter @chinupking  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
